


hanahaki otome

by myefflorescence



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Character Study, Coughing, Dark Past, Flowers, Graphic Description, Hanahaki Disease, High School, Mild Blood, Multi, Other, Past Relationship(s), Reconciliation, Sick Character, Slow Burn, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22226836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myefflorescence/pseuds/myefflorescence
Summary: her place had always been destined to be on the sidelines. she would watch them play, watch them grow - both physically and mentally, until they reached that certain peak when she couldn't follow them anywhere. and then she would be left behind as the boys, ( h e r ) boys - slipped through the cracks of her fingers.when they were 14, satsuki was 14.when they were 18, satsuki was 18.when they were 22, satsuki was 18.
Relationships: Generation of Miracles & Momoi Satsuki, Kuroko Tetsuya & Momoi Satsuki
Comments: 9
Kudos: 38





	hanahaki otome

Startled awake by the sudden suffocation blocking her airways, Satsuki hastily shot up from the comfort of her bedsheets, now nothing more than a prison entrapping her inside, and started hacking out cough after violent cough that left a burning sensation against the dryness of her throat. One hand clutching tightly at her heaving chest in a weak attempt to ease the excruciating pain, the material of her shirt bunched up in her fist, she felt as though her entire life just flashed through her own eyes. The feeling of dread that tugged at her heart sharply grew more intense with each passing second as no air came in and out of her nostrils, completely rendering them useless. With hot tears on the verge of falling, blurring her vision, Satsuki briefly wondered if this really was how her life would end.  
  
After what felt like an eon, only when she felt like her consciousness was on the edge of slipping away had a cough powerful enough to loosen the tight knot in her throat finally erupted, relieving the girl of her misery and, much to her dismay, spilling splatters of crimson liquid all over her clean sheets.  
  
White against red, the colors of oblivion.  
  
She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, its ticking sounds echoing like a chant that disrupted the otherwise perfect silence of her room.  
  
 **2:45 AM.**  
  
A bittersweet chuckle escaped her sore throat, not loud enough to startle anyone, but rather quiet – something she’d like to keep to herself. How many days had it been since she last had a good night’s sleep in its true nature? She had long forgotten what it was like to be able to surrender herself completely to the comforting emptiness of a deep slumber, undisturbed by anything in the world. What a luxury the thought itself was – how ironic that she could even dream of that when she lacked the ability to even do something as simple as breathing normally.  
  
The warmth of blood dripping along the lines inside the palm that had been used to cover her mouth prompted her to take a look at it, only to find an image that she had long grown accustomed to – flower petals of multiple colors, shapes and sizes, laying in stark contrast with the paleness of her skin.  
  
Kicking the sheets off and letting them gathered at the edge of the bed, Satsuki got off, taking a little moment to gather her balance, and headed towards the bathroom. The light that she switched on was dim, its soft golden hues illuminating the feminine features of her face that reflected onto the mirror. She had gotten even skinnier, it seemed, her cheeks hollowed even without sucking in a breath and the sharpness of her jaw more defined. Dark circles hung like shadows under her tired eyes, obscured by strands of pink hair that was stuck to her face from how much she had been sweating earlier. Satsuki felt as though she was burning up with a fever – every inch of her body felt hot, sticky, aching. She was in pain. She was exhausted. She just wanted to sleep.  
  
The faucet was turned on and water soon cascaded from it in a rhythmic stream, the sound much pleasant to her ears. With practiced ease, she started washing the petals one by one in a delicate manner, careful as to not accidentally tear them apart. It was not an easy job – she failed and ruined them, but it wasn’t that big of a deal for Satsuki to mind. Once the fresh blood had mostly been washed off, she brought the flowers back to her room and spread them out evenly on a tray covered in a thin sheet amongst all the other petals from previous bursts, and left them to dry there. The tray itself was situated on her desk, away from the direct sunlight that would usually spill through the window at this time of the year, and yet still had a perfect temperature for the petals to turn crisp.  
  
It was a rather strange hobby of hers that not many knew about. Years ago, when she had just developed a slight interest for it and the flowers had come in a much, _much_ smaller amount, she was able to keep it a secret. Not that she had done it on purpose – nobody had asked, so she simply chose not to tell them. Her parents knew because they caught her at her desk once, too occupied with drying the flowers that she hadn’t noticed them coming in. Aomine knew, because he was the only one beside her actual family allowed to come in her room without permission. He had merely seen the trays, teased her about it, then dropped the subject immediately after.  
  
She was thankful he hadn’t asked. Because, to be quite honest with herself, she wouldn’t have known what to say.  
  
 _What difference would it make, anyways?_  
  
Satsuki approached her bed and grasped at the corners of the once pristine white sheet, now stained with crimson red. Even something as simple as lifting it and carrying it to the bathroom required inhuman efforts – she couldn’t move, couldn’t apply too much strength because every time she did would result in excruciating agony that left her breathless and gasping for air. Every step felt heavy, as though her feet were supporting not only her own body weight, but the weight of the world itself. The sheet’s material scraped against the cold wooden floor and even a minor ruffling sound like that threatened to split her head in two. Satsuki couldn’t help but wondered what she had done so wrong in her past life to deserve suffering in such a way as she dragged the sheet to the bathroom.  
  
Cold water was more efficient in removing blood stains rather than hot – that much she had learnt from experience. Satsuki began to scrub away at the patch with a brush vigorously, or at the very least, as hard as she could without pushing her limits. She scrubbed and scrubbed until her wrist felt raw and all the soap had been soaked up, leaving behind nothing but a little dampness that a washing machine could definitely handle. Satisfied with the work, she cleaned up and left the sheet balled up in the dirty laundry basket.  
  
By the time she finished, the sky had lightened considerably, fading from complete darkness to a heavy shade of navy. As expected of summer. Deciding against going back to sleep just because she knew it would be yet another futile attempt, Satsuki chose to lay herself down on the bed instead, and stared wordlessly at the empty ceiling above her head in melancholy.  
  
Satsuki was no stranger to nostalgia. In fact, she had encountered it so many times that, whenever she felt lonely (which, was quite common these days), she sought for company from it. Every night, she would drift off to sleep while relishing in the happiness that nostalgia brought, fragments of memories playing like a broken record inside her troubled mind. Memories of the time together with the boys back in middle school, in Teikō, before they became the Generation of Miracles — before they knew to what extent could their potentials truly reached.  
  
Undoubtedly, her love for basketball stemmed from Aomine Daiki. He had been handling a ball for as far back as she could recall and playing against children much older than his own age. She remembered exchanging tea parties with other girls for an afternoon on the street court, favoring basketball over child’s plays, watching in amazement as Aomine moved with a speed impossibly quick for someone his age and maneuvered around the court almost effortlessly so. From then, even with her childish mindset, she had always known he would grow up to become something great. And so, it wasn’t a surprise to her when upon arriving in Teikō, the first thing he did was signing up for the basketball club. It wasn’t a surprise for the both of them, either, when she jotted her name down neatly beside his messy handwriting.  
  
Aomine got recruited into the first string and became a regular almost immediately after, whereas Satsuki, with her interest for the sport and a keen eye for the details, quickly secured a place as the team’s manager as well. From her place on the sidelines, Satsuki watched in wonder as her childhood best friend, along with the people he called his teammates, delivered matches after matches of wonder and excitement that further strengthened her love for the sport. Nijimura-senpai was a stern, yet caring captain that she greatly admired and, perhaps, might even have harbored a crush on. Akashi was a boy far too intimidating for his age, but he was kind and very smart, and she also admired him for being a vice-captain even if he had only been a first-year then. Midorima was tall, as tall as Aomine, and he had always been such a polite and intelligent young boy, almost rivaling Akashi in that aspect. Murasakibara had a surprisingly big sweet tooth in stark contrast to his giant form, which she found rather endearing. Then Kuroko joined, with his scary lack of presence and timidness, but his fire for basketball burnt brighter than anyone else on the team – and Momoi first knew what what it meant to fall in love. After him came Kise, whose cheerfulness made hers paled in comparison and constant bickering with Aomine filled their practices with innocent laughters.  
  
Because Satsuki was born a girl, she couldn’t stand on the court with them. She would never understand the rush of adrenaline that kept her boys going even while their bodies were screaming in exhaustion; the satisfaction of successfully pulling an alley-oop or, the feeling of victory when slamming a ball in at the last second to make a sweet buzzer beater. She would never get to hear the screeching of her shoes against the polished floor or the thumping of the ball against it, but that didn’t mean her passion for basketball was any less than theirs. More than anyone on the team, Satsuki tried. She tried and always tried the hardest, because unlike the boys, her abilities hadn’t come naturally. Unlike Aomine’s incredible agility, Murasakibara’s blessed height and build, or Midorima’s accuracy, Momoi had to train and polish her analyzing skills. Nobody would know of the nights she stayed up late, watching video tapes of their opponents over and over again just to catch a detail — anything that would prove helpful for the team. Nobody would know of how much time she spent drafting and drawing graphs in accordance to each player’s stats, all in order to secure Teikō’s absolute victories. All they knew was that her data had helped them through the hardest of times, and for that, she had earned a place out of respect beside her boys – something that she would never dream of.  
  
Granted, Satsuki wasn’t always acknowledged seriously due to her gender and appearance (she had always been renowned for her beauty along with Kise, even if she refused to accept it), and her position as a manager was often found skeptical to believe for some, but she paid no attention to that. For her, just having a chance to be beside her boys and supporting them unconditionally was enough. She was content with it, even if in return she had to sacrifice her reputation with girls her age.  
  
Satsuki watched as they grew, and boy, did they grow fast. She could hardly keep up with the data when it seemed like they became stronger after almost every single match, their abilities inhuman for middle schoolers. As victories came rolling in, they became the _Generation of Miracles_ — a name that was fitting, but Satsuki had always thought was too flashy. In the end, they had been only children. And to label them as such only to exploit their talents later on, Satsuki would always despise the public for the unwanted attention. Had they been ordinary students, perhaps things would’ve gone differently. Perhaps she wouldn’t have had to watch as their laughters dimmed, their smiles ceased, the look of pure enjoyment and passion on their faces replaced by boredom, melancholy. When Nijimura left, leaving the title behind for Akashi and their coach had fallen ill, everything went wrong.  
  
It wasn’t supposed to turn out like that.  
  
They were supposed to be together and play together for forever and always. At least, Kuroko had promised her that much. But Akashi became indifferent, Aomine started skipping practices, and everyone else took pleasure in humiliating their opponents’ and crushing their hopes entirely. Victory was a must and basketball stopped being enjoyable. It became a necessity for everyone to score at least 20 in a game, and sometimes they purposely scored in their own goal just to balance the numbers on the board to 111-11. And then, Kuroko forgot his promise to her.  
  
By that point, they were no longer the boys she knew and loved.  
  
She started coughing from the day of their graduation.  
  
It had been mild at first. Merely enough for her to think of it as a result of a simple cold and discard it immediately after. She had bigger things to worry about – everyone was scattering all around Japan with only her, Aomine, Midorima and Kuroko remaining in Tokyo. For a brief moment, she remembered wanting to follow Kuroko to Seirin – a relatively new high school and still unknown yet to most people. Her loyalty to Aomine convinced her to apply for Touou instead – he was the one who had changed the most drastically ever since that day. From a cheerful, live-for-basketball boy, he became reckless and arrogant, rude and inconsiderate. Long were gone the days of watching him truly enjoy a match. Long were gone the days of him looking back at her from the court, making sure she had eyes on his every move.  
  
Long were gone the days he cared.  
  
And her coughs started coming in short, random fits. Sometimes they would occur in the middle of class, sometimes when she was alone. Either way, they still hadn’t been alarming enough for her to care.  
  
The first petal that fell from her lips during the match in which Seirin lost against Touou had been blue.  
  
Without her knowledge, flowers had begun to bloom in her lungs – a sweet, sweet fruit born out of her pure love for the boys, its roots embedded deep inside her body. Days passed by like a blur and before she knew it, she had gotten used to the bursts of violent coughs, the burning sensation as roots and flowers stabbed at her lungs like splinters, twisting around with every useless attempt to remove it. The harder she tried, the more unbearable the pain became. It felt as though her entire chest was on fire – lungs expanding, stretching to their limits and squishing her heart tightly against her ribcage. If she could, she would describe it as a pair of hands impaling her chest, grabbing her organs in a tight grasp and used all of their strength to squeeze the air out of them.  
  
It was a wonder as to how she had managed to hide it from everyone for so long. She remembered the absolute horror upon seeing blood on her hands for the first time, feeling it dripping from her mouth and blending in with the bunch of petals in her palms. She remembered how everything had hurt so much then. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t even utter a single word for help — all she remembered was arriving at the hospital in a crying mess, choking on her own tears as she showed the nurses the bloody petals in her stained hands, and how they scrambled to get her to a doctor almost immediately. She had refused to give them any form of contact details when receiving the diagnosis, not even those of her parents. Satsuki recalled that day in the doctor’s office, when she had been cleaned up properly and was holding the results with two shaky hands, feeling like the world had just collapsed on her.  
  
 _ **Hanahaki disease.**_  
  
 _She was going to die._  
  
Satsuki had looked up at the elder doctor then with tears brimming at her frightened eyes, the paper crunched up when her hands curled to fists.  
  
“There is a solution to this, of course. A risky one, but one we’d recommend you to take if you want to live,” he had told her while removing his glasses to rub at his tired eyes, seemingly disbelief that such a thing could happen to someone as young as her.  
  
“We can remove the roots through a surgery. However, that also means that you will lose any memories and feelings you’ve ever had for this… _these_ boys?” He had ended with a question then, a question that she had asked herself in bitterness as she looked down on six different petals laying in a tray in front of her.  
  
 _She was going to die because of the boys she had loved so much._


End file.
